


A Force to be Reckoned With

by twoseas



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Content, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, but before they pay Bedelia a visit, inspired by a scene from Gone Girl, takes place after the fall and some time to heal, there is some light fighting and some making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Hannibal gets more than he bargained for after provoking Will - which turns out completely in his favor.Featuring a petty but terribly in love Hannibal and the incomparable Will Graham.





	A Force to be Reckoned With

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my WIP folder and I realized it was super close to being done so I crunched out the last paragraph or two, faded to black, and declared it complete! I wrote it after seeing a gif from that one speech of Amy's in Gone Girl and to kind of tangentially address a bit of the Will vs Bedelia dynamic which is so complicated and interesting.
> 
> Please, enjoy!

Hannibal’s back met the wall with a dull thud that resonated through the knobs of his spine while his head hit with a sharper thwack that had a burst of black and white flashing over his vision. A hand curled tight around his throat while another pushed at his still aching bullet wound, Will utilizing one of Hannibal’s vulnerable points to pin his hips to the wall. 

Hannibal held in a gasp of pain, but only just barely. 

Lips curled in rage, Will growled into his face, “Compare me to Bedelia one more time, Hannibal.”

He made to move, to show Will just what kind of danger he was courting. “I only meant-”

Will interrupted him with a forceful shove, the increased pressure on his throat and injury making him grunt out. 

“I know what you meant,” Will hissed back. “But if you want to keep comparing me to her, you’re better off just sticking that pencil in.”

His blazing eyes darted down pointedly to where Hannibal had his pencil poised just under Will’s armpit. 

Hannibal raised his hands in a show of mocking surrender. 

“Cute,” Will bit out, contempt and dismissal saturating his every sound and movement as he carelessly swatted the hand holding the pencil away. 

Hannibal relaxed his posture and evened out his expression. He leaned more heavily against the wall as if it was his idea to be there. “A most violent reaction. We ought to talk about it.”

Laughing humorlessly, Will took a step back and bared his teeth. “Don’t.”

“I think it would be good for us. Particularly after so long a separation and such an overwrought reunion, wouldn’t you agree? Bedelia is an intelligent, insightful, cultured woman, Will. Many would consider a comparison to her a high compliment. What is it about her that you detest so much?”

Will met his eyes and were Hannibal a lesser man he might have flinched. 

“You’re right, Hannibal. She’s all those things and more. A real survivor too. You value that, right?” The tone of Will's voice became sardonically casual. “Now that I think about it, she should really be here right now, not me. I mean, you handpicked her as a companion yourself, didn’t you?”

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, but Will continued in that same forcibly nonchalant tone. 

“Yeah, I think you should. I’ll even help you catch up to her. After I see you two settled comfortably, I can go back to my wife.”

A muscle in Hannibal’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. 

“I can go back to my dogs. My little house.”

His fists tightened until the skin was stretched taut and white over his knuckles. 

“Back to the happily married life,” Will mused aloud like he was looking fondly back. “Anniversary is only a couple of months away. I can start planning something extra special. What do you think?”

Slamming into Will, Hannibal threw his pencil down and instead grabbed a fistful of Will’s hair, tugging mercilessly and forcing Will into submission. His neck was bared to Hannibal, the fluttering of his pulse faintly exposed. Hannibal loomed, maintaining a position of power over the other man. As he yanked Will’s head to meet his gaze, he was met by Will’s triumphant stare. Will’s victory took him aback and he released his hold, fingers going lax in surprise and assessment. But he didn’t step back, the need to stay close overriding all other concerns. 

“Yeah,” Will told him with a crooked, bloodthirsty grin. “I can play the jealousy game just as well as you. Maybe even better.”

Will reached up and grabbed Hannibal’s shirt, fingers creasing the fine fabric without any consideration for the material. 

“Do you really think comparing me to Bedelia is in your best interest, Hannibal?” Will asked him, the question posed to the scant space between them. “Do you honestly think that she could have done what we did together? That she could make you feel the way I make you feel? If that intelligent, insightful, cultured woman was really so perfect for you, go back to her. Leave. I left the caring, kind wife I loved to come with you. I made my choice. But if you’re so nostalgic for your honeymoon with Bedelia, then I think it’s time you made yours. ”

Will tossed his head in the direction of the door as if telling Hannibal to take the out. When Hannibal remained motionless but for his heaving chest, Will’s sharp smirk turned knowing. 

“If that’s the case, then I’d appreciate it if you stopped using your history with Bedelia to get a rise out of me. Because in the end, she wasn’t enough for you. She never was. Bedelia followed you out of curiosity and survival and when one was satisfied and the other ensured, she left as fast as those designer heels could carry her. She made herself famous by cashing in on your name and telling just enough of your secrets to shore up her lies. She didn’t participate in your life, Hannibal. She didn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t stomach the realities of the thing that fascinated her most.”

“So don’t ever compare me to her,” Will snarled in a domineering demand. “I’m not like any of the others who survived you. I’m not Jack. I’m not Alana. I’m not Miriam. I’m not Chiyoh. And I sure as shit ain’t Doctor Bedelia Du Maurier. I’m Will Fucking Graham, baby. I’m it.”

Pushing Hannibal aside with one more pointed look, Will made to turn his back and walk away.  

Hannibal just couldn’t allow that. 

Grabbing Will’s wrist in a vice like grip, Hannibal spun the other man back towards him. Will tensed in anticipation of a fight, his mouth pressed thin. But then Hannibal crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss. He coaxed Will’s mouth open with demanding teeth and eager tongue, finesse abandoned for passion and heat and violent lust and longing. Will moaned into his mouth and Hannibal drank it down like a man dying of thirst, his heart thudding in his chest as his hands ripped and tugged at Will’s shirt. Buttons snapped off, falling to the floor and rolling under the furnishings. Will bit Hannibal’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood and Hannibal’s teeth snared Will’s own mouth in a mirrored bite. The flavor of their shared blood coated their tongues and Hannibal ached with want. 

Strong, confident hands shoved at Hannibal’s shoulders, urging him towards his bedroom. Hannibal couldn’t bear separation even as they stumbled gracelessly, his hands roving over every inch of Will he could touch, his mouth pressing sloppy, hungry kisses against the exposed skin of Will’s throat and collarbones. Together they tumbled into Hannibal’s bed and Will rolled them until he was on top, straddling Hannibal and pinning him to the mattress.

As Hannibal bucked his hips in a quest for more contact and stared up at Will, he felt a series of clashing, contrary, overwhelming emotions - he felt insignificant and powerful, blessed and damned, sated and hungry. How could he look up at that beautiful, dangerous, impossible man and not feel like a worshiper laid bare before an avenging god? How could he not want him mind, body, and soul? 

Will was right and Hannibal knew. He knew it for years, practically from the moment he looked at Will and saw what he was and what he could become. 

He was Will Fucking Graham. And he was it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal, washing Will's hair: Back in Florence, I-  
> Will, eyes closed and smiling gently: If your next words have anything to do with Bedelia, I will drown you in this tub.  
> Hannibal: ...I see.  
> Will: I'm serious. You'll be fucking dead. But if it makes you feel better, I'll cry over your body.  
> Hannibal: It does, actually.


End file.
